


Without Trust

by Sakon76



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 10:21:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakon76/pseuds/Sakon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing about trust is, it's a two-way street.  As the Guardians discover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without Trust

**1\. "Oh, Jack. What have you done?"**

Jack has his toothbox, and the memories it contains. Toothiana knows this because she knows the inventory of her palace, and after all the jeweled cases have been retrieved from Pitch's lair, she can feel that one absence like... well, like a missing tooth.

She questions Baby Tooth about it and the tiny fairy confirms that yes, Jack looked inside his box. She refuses, however, to say if he told her anything about what he saw. Which means, as Toothiana knows her stubborn miniature daughter-self, that Jack did say something. And that somehow he earned Baby Tooth's loyalty such that she refuses to tell her mother-self any of Jack's secrets.

That... is disturbing.

Toothiana thinks, and in between directing her fairies she broods, and eventually she decides that she is the Tooth Fairy: it is her place, it is her _right_ , to have that box back in its slot with the others.

It still takes her another two months before she asks Jack to return it.

To her surprise, he agrees readily, flashing her one of his snow-white grins. He immediately fishes the tube out of his hoodie pocket and hands it to her.

Even as she takes it, Toothiana can feel the difference, knows what is missing within.

He has given her back the box, yes. But there are no teeth, no memories, in it.

Looking at him, she sees now what she didn't see before. That his expression is friendly, open, honest. That he smiles at her in a way that sets her heart aflutter. And that there is no trust, none at all, in the eyes of the boy she ignored for three centuries.

The realization chills her. Her wings stop fluttering. Her feet touch down on the platform of her palace.

"Anything else, Tooth?" Jack Frost asks her.

She opens her mouth, but can't say the words. Can't demand that Jack return his teeth. Because she knows exactly what his answer will be.

"No," she says after a moment, returning his bright, meaningless smile. "That's all. Thank you, Jack."

And she knows, and he knows that she knows, and she knows that he knows that she knows --

Toothiana stops the circular chain of thought before she can work herself into a tizzy. Jack gives her a farewell, and Baby Tooth too, (and how does it sting, that his farewell to her little helper _feels_ more honest and heartfelt than the one to Toothiana herself) and then the wind whirls the homeless boy away to the colder parts of the world.

And Toothiana is left in her magnificent palace, surrounded by her swooning helpers, with an empty box in her hand.

What she's realized she's missed out on hurts worse than the missing teeth.

* * *

**2\. "We should NEVER have trusted you!"**

Aster works harder than ever the next year, painting millions of eggs in the most exquisite patterns he's ever invented. He creates new subtle spells to change their contents, innovates new flavors of chocolate to create tastebud explosions. And if the night before Easter he's inexplicably nervous, he will never, ever admit it.

His nerves are for nothing. It goes about fantastically, beautifully. Every single egg hunt goes off seamlessly. He gains thousands of new believers, their delight at each new egg ringing in his long ears, the well-deserved praise justification for all his hard work.

As Easter passes the International Date Line, he collapses to the soft, grassy ground of the Warren, completely exhausted in the best way.

But he can't sleep. There's something niggling at him, and Aster's mind won't let him rest until the thought coalesces.

After a half hour of alternating struggle and contemplation, it comes to him.

There was no snow.

Not in the warmer areas of the globe, not in Scotland or Finland or Siberia. None. Anywhere.

He initially feels pleased about this. Nice that Jack finally got the message, and left Easter alone. After last year's disaster, he'd finally gotten it through his icy noggin just what Easter was about.

Aster smiles, and turns over on his side, closing his eyes, body relaxing.

Except, sleep still doesn't come, and he doesn't know why. His body is exhausted; why the bloody blazes won't his mind just follow suit and shut down?!

His thoughts drift again for uncountable time, until the joys and pleasures of his day finally circle back to the egg hunts. And Aster realizes what had been missing.

Jack Frost.

He's always seen, even if for just an instant or two, the irritating bloke at the egg hunts before. Usually crouched up in a tree, hood up and shading his eyes, his mouth's expression varying from wistful to manic.

Today... nothing. Not even in Burgess, which seems to be where the irritating twit makes his presence most known.

And just like that, all the good feelings drain away from Aster as he comes to a realization.

Jack hadn't been making Easter easier for Aster.

No, the winter spirit just simply hadn't wanted anything to do with it. Or, by extension, with Aster. No laughter, no teasing, no games or challenges or races.

The Guardian of Fun has rejected Easter, and Aster, in their entirety this year.

As he thinks on this, and tries to figure out _why_ , Aster can't help but remember last year. He'd been so enraged at Jack's absence, at his presumed alliance with Pitch, that he'd nearly hit the boy. And, further back, all the Easters when he'd snarled at the irritating winter spirit, knocked him out of trees, screamed at him and just generally tried to get him to _go somewhere else and leave Easter alone_...

This year, it looks like Jack finally took him at his word.

Aster wonders why getting his wish tastes so bitter.

* * *

**3\. "You were with Pitch?!"**

Nicholas loves his work, loves his job. He knows he is not always the best boss, but he tries. Sometimes, when he becomes aware he has crossed a line with the elves or pushed the yeti too far, he gives them all a two weeks long, all expenses paid, vacation to anywhere in the world they want. Sometimes these two apologetic gestures even happen at the same time, which leaves his workshop as it is now: silent and empty.

Their vacation is, truth to be told, a bit of a break for Nicholas too. He takes the time to unwind. He experiments with cooking for himself, and is always pleasantly surprised when the results turn out edible. He tinkers with his various magic projects, which there never seems to be time for otherwise. He grooms his feral reindeer by hand, rejoicing in the way they respond to him as they do to no other.

And, eventually, three days into his isolation he grows bored and lonely, and his thoughts turn to seeking out company.

Tooth, he knows, is perpetually busy. She will have only mere moments for him in between directing her fairies. He does not understand how she can keep up that pace constantly, but the Guardian of Memory seems to thrive on the challenge.

Bunny... well, it is barely a week past Easter. At this point, he will still be sleeping off the high of his holiday, much as Nicholas himself does every year. Either that or, if he is awake, the Easter Bunny will be groggy and snappish. Bunny does not, Nicholas knows from the long years of their acquaintance, wake up well. It is better to give him time.

Sandy! Nicholas could visit Sandy, fly along on his cloud for a while, watch the children's dreams. Maybe even get inspiration for some new toys.

But... he does not want to work right now, and sometimes Nicholas suspects the Sandman grows irritated at his attempts to fill the ever-silent night with talking.

Finally, Nicholas' thoughts turn to their newest, youngest Guardian. Jack Frost. Yes, Jack, he decides, would be ideal company right now. Fun, witty, as liable to throw a snowball at Nicholas as anyone ever will be... yes. He will go visit Jack Frost.

It is not until he has his coat on and snow globe in hand that Nicholas realizes he has no clue where to find the winter spirit. The snow globes cannot be set to find a person, only a destination. And no one, not even Santa Claus, knows where Jack is to be found.

Nicholas wilts, and takes off his coat.

In lieu of company, he sets to cleaning.

He's deep into one of the storage rooms that holds broken or otherwise rejected toys when he finds the package. It is hidden in the back, atop a tall shelving unit. Everything around it is coated with dust. Wondering, Nicholas picks up the box. He remembers it.

Last Christmas, he had wanted to give Jack a gift. Something to welcome him to the Guardians. Something to make up for all those years of automatic Naughty List entries for the mischievous, lonely spirit. But, then as today, he hadn't known where to find Jack. And summoning him to the Pole just to receive a little present had seemed overly dramatic. He had been sure Jack wouldn't have appreciated being singled out like that.

Except, maybe he would have. Because here Nicholas stands, holding the gift he'd left in Jamie Bennett's bedroom, figuring that the boy would be visited by Jack at some point.

It still has the tag on it saying "To Jack Frost." But that tag turns now, revealing writing in an unfamiliar hand on its other side.

"Thanks, but I can't," the second note says. "Maybe sometime when I deserve it."

Nicholas looks back at the shelf again. At the hidden spot which would only be reached, or known, to either a very thorough cleaner, or someone who could fly. He thinks on Jack's claim of having tried to sneak into the Workshop so many times. He thinks about the fact that he'd told the yeti to give Jack entrance whenever the winter spirit came calling. He thinks about the fact that none of the yeti, _none_ , have mentioned Jack showing up since.

Jack had snuck in, returned his gift, and snuck back out without ever alerting anyone to his presence.

Quietly setting the unopened box back on the shelf, Nicholas leaves the storage room. He needs to talk with Manny, to find out why Jack had rejected his first-ever gift.

He needs to find out how to set things right.

* * *

**4\. "....."**

Sanderson has no warning before the cold wet slushball hits him.

He blinks, feeling bits of ice and water slide down his back. Wordlessly, he forms a sandball between his hands. He spins, throws as fast as he can.

Jack Frost's smile is brilliant as winter incarnate manages to catch the ball, juggling it briefly between his hands, losing only a little of the sand before freezing it solid. Sandy smiles as his fellow Guardian flies over, joins him on his dream cloud.

"Hey, Sandy, how's it hanging?" Jack asks, handing back the ball... frozen into a perfect sphere, Sandy notices. Sandy gives the boy a thumbs-up, answer to his question and compliment to his artistry both. Then he pauses, noticing blood on Jack's wrist and the torn cuff of the boy's sweatshirt. Sandy drops the ball, an exclamation mark forming over his head as he grabs the injured hand, tugging Jack to sit down.

The cut is rough, jagged, but thankfully shallow. He looks up into blue eyes, shocked, wanting to know how this happened.

Jack's smile is wan. "I was getting a drink from a water fountain in Chicago. This guy - a grownup, so he must've been crazy or something, to be able to see me - jumped me out of nowhere, had a couple of silver hooks or something." Jack shrugs his other shoulder, nodding to his other side, where Sandy notices a tear in the upper arm of his other sleeve. "Scared the crap out of me. I jumped into the air, trying to shake him off. Took a few crazy spins before I got rid of him. I booked it out of there."

Sanderson winces. There are always a few in every generation who are not quite right in the head. Many of them frame their internal wrongs in religion and believe themselves to be hunting monsters or demons. With the legend of Jack Frost now steadily growing, he has apparently also become a valid target for these disturbed individuals.

Sandy tries to explain this as best he can with sand-symbols. Jack remains uncharacteristically quiet, even as Sandy produces a first aid kit. The teenager only hisses a little as his injury is treated with hydrogen peroxide, then covered with a large bandage. Sandy plucks at the wrist of the damaged hoodie, wishing he had needle and thread to mend it, but Jack just smiles, waving off the unspoken offer.

"I'm good. It's just a shirt, Sandy." Jack flexes his injured wrist. "Thanks for the patch-up, though." He hesitates. "You mind if I hang with you for a while?"

Sanderson blinks, then shakes his head; he does not mind in the slightest. Behind his broad grin, he hides the thought that Jack must have been more shaken by the attack than he is willing to let on, if the boy is actively seeking out the company of another immortal. Even after Pitch's attack and joining the Guardians, Jack had preferred the company of mortal children to that of his own kind. In fact, it seems he still does.

But not all humans are like the disturbed few, and after a few hours or days to get himself settled, Jack will fly off again to play with children, as a Guardian ought. In the meantime, Sandy lets himself feel smug that Jack came to him to soothe his shaken nerves. It feels like a small victory.

Sandy blows a fine mist of dreamsand from his palm and stirs it with a single finger, then raises an eyebrow at Jack, extending his hand toward the boy, inviting him to play with the cloud.

Jack reaches forward, combs his fingers through the sand. It swirls up into the shape of deer, racing one another, laughing childish figures riding on their backs. Sandy raises his eyebrows, impressed at the fantasy, and with a flick of his wrist sends it down to the world below, to a city child who dreams of nature and the wilderness. Little Laura will enjoy the dream Sandy and Jack have made for her.

Watching the dream go on its way, Jack Frost smiles. And relaxes in the company of his friend.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Yeah, I'm squarely in Jack's corner on the "they ignored me for three hundred years and then automatically assumed I'd betrayed them" thing. Funny thing is, the other side of them actively displaying that they had no trust in them is the question of why on Earth should he trust them. Trust is a two-way street. (Of course, the probably canonical answer is that he's a child and what child doesn't trust Santa Claus et al. But I like exploring Jack's damage. It's more interesting to me.) Sandy, however, never demonstrated a lack of trust. He is, in fact, the only one who had any kind of friendship with Jack prior to the film. So Jack trusts Sandy. Just not the rest of them.


End file.
